But What Of The Physician, Hippocrates?
by Skiagrapher
Summary: Kakashi wasn't the first person to notice, but something was wrong with Sakura and it had to do with the hospital, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. But even Sakura wasn't prepared for what she'd have to put up with at work. DISCONTINUED.
1. Prologue

_Authors Notes: The title of this story is a reference to the Hippocratic Oath, which is a set of rules on medical ethics that was (probably) written by Hippocrates and mostly has to do with the treatment of patients. I was inspired by an article I read in The New York Times about assaults on health care workers, and I thought it would be interesting to apply to Sakura._

_It was _supposed_ to be gen-fic, but then a passing thought that Kakashi being all protective and smitten would be cute hit me, and I couldn't stop that bit from being written, and now it's integral to the plot. _Sigh_. I'll write another Sakura gen-fic, I guess. I love KakaSaku though, so I'm not _too_ upset. XD_

_I don't know how well in character these guys are (Sakura comes a bit from myself and Kakashi is _hard_ to write), but hopefully they're not glaringly off. Please feel free to point out any improvements I can make._

_Anyway, shutting up now. Enjoy!_

* * *

**But What Of The Physician, Hippocrates?**

Prologue

Kakashi liked to tell himself that he was the first person who noticed it. Having the Sharingan had its advantages, but he'd been keenly observant even before he'd gained this singular advantage. Besides, wasn't he the one always telling his students to look underneath the underneath? But if he was honest with himself—and he usually tried to be, although he was a shameless liar to everyone else—he would admit that the first person who really noticed was Sai.

It had been a mission of little significance, otherwise. It was a standard escort mission, and B-ranked only because the politician was involved with some delicate political negotiations between two of the lesser nations. Kakashi didn't bother finding out what those negotiations were—he didn't really have the patience for politics that didn't pertain to avoiding getting his ass kicked—but they'd seemed rather bland in comparison to what Fire had to deal with normally. Hell, the guy hadn't even been attacked. The mission was boring as sin, of course, but it paid the bills and Kakashi of all people knew when to take small measures of peace when he could get them.

The same could not be said for younger, less patient members of his team.

Naruto's mouth dropped open into an exaggerated yawn, and the first part of his statement was distorted in the back of his throat as he tried to speak through it. "Man, what a waste of a mission scroll." He curled his arms behind his head from his sprawled position in the ground and stomped his heel impatiently in the dirt. "That old woman did this on purpose. We're way better than this dumb mission, and she knows it."

Sakura twitched instinctively at Naruto's blatant disrespect for her master, and Kakashi recognized the coming explosion like he recognized his own hand. Best to nip that one in the bud before things got out of hand. "Hokage-_sama_—" he emphasized the honorific from behind his book—"probably didn't appreciate having to replace her desk," he observed placidly. "I told you you were pounding on it too hard."

Here he turned a page as Naruto's mouth opened and then shut sulkily when he couldn't come up with a good retort. Sakura's black mood lifted instantly—she had a hard time staying mad at Naruto anyway—and she gave him a grateful look. Kakashi tried very hard to ignore the fact that her small, appreciative smile seemed to cause a startled arrhythmia in his heartbeat.

He fought the sigh that threatened to slip out. This is getting ridiculous, he reminded himself sternly even as his blood pounded just a little bit louder than usual.

He almost missed Naruto's own frustrated huff. "It's just such a waste of our time. It's going to take us three days to get home," he whined petulantly.

Sakura rolled her eyes at her friend and stretched her arms above her head, her back arching off the tree she was sitting against (Kakashi stubbornly ignored the creeping urge that trickled up his back). "Well, you're not going to catch _me_ complaining. It's nice to be out of the hospital for once."

There was a shift from the other side of camp as the last member of their group set down his drawing pad and pencil neatly in his lap. Kakashi didn't appear outwardly changed, but he was definitely paying attention now. Sai was usually content to remain on the edges of interaction between their team, but when he did it was hard to predict what might happen. Kakashi tried to prepare for any eventuality, but Sai's question took even him by surprise.

The artist stared at Sakura for a second before asking, "why do you dislike working at the hospital?"

Naruto stopped plucking at the grass around him and shot Sai a curious look, but Sakura looked absolutely baffled. She dropped her arms to the ground and gaped at their teammate. It took her several tries—opening and closing her mouth as she tried to find words—before she managed to stutter, "I-I… what?" She paused for a moment, and then seemed to breath her surprise back into herself. "I don't know what you mean. I like the hospital just fine."

Kakashi's eyes narrowed at this. On the surface, of course, nothing was odd about her statement. But the way she'd said it—so calm and flat, like she was reciting the rulebook—had Kakashi instantly suspicious.

"It doesn't seem that way," Sai commented speculatively. "You're very quick to anger at training after you've finished a shift."

"What's your basis for comparison? You're pretty much universally guaranteed to find a way to piss me off," she retorted waspishly.

Now she was being _defensive_. Kakashi laid his book face down on his knee, abandoning his pretense of disinterest. He smelled blood. Even Naruto sensed it, and the blond sat up to regard the interaction with a frown.

Sai plowed blithely on. "If we train after you have been working at the hospital, you are always in a much worse disposition than if you haven't. I read the word "grouchy" in a book once—it seems to accurately describe your demeanor. Your mood also seems greatly improved after you have been away for a while."

Sakura shifted nervously, because now all of her teammate's attentions were directed at her. She fixed Sai with a withering glare. "It's not an easy job and I have a lot of responsibility. I have to do incredibly complicated procedures all the time. I suppose you never considered that I might be stressed from trying to save people's lives," she snapped.

"I was merely asking a question, Ugly."

"Well, I like working at the hospital. There's nothing wrong with it. I love my job," she told him in a tone that clearly indicated that she thought the subject was closed. Sai nodded and shifted his attention from her, casting it about absently.

Kakashi hoped that would be the end of it, but of course he had forgotten Sai's complete and utter lack of tact. "I wonder what the cause could be, then?" the artist mused, as though working out a difficult puzzle. Oh, God, Kakashi thought. The boy did _not_ know when to shut up. "It occurs too frequently to be related to your mens—"

"_Sai_," Kakashi warned at the same moment Naruto hissed "_Shut up, you idiot!_" Every alarm bell in the team leader's head was clanging as Sakura's eyes narrowed in calculated fury. If he had finished that sentence Kakashi was certain the landscape would immediately thereafter be decorated with Sai's imprint. And _really_. They were _trying_ to maintain a low profile.

He was worried for a second that Sakura might still pound her teammate's ass, but after a tense moment her fists unclenched. She stood with cold dignity and grabbed her pack. "I'm going to go to the stream to wash up," she announced. She fixed them all with a glare that would probably have had lesser men quaking in their boots, pink hair or not. "Follow me and I'm going to remove something you'd prefer remained attached to your person." With that, she stalked out of the clearing, leaving them all to imagine exactly _which_ body part she might choose to take.

Really. As though _any_ of them would be stupid enough to follow her in such a black mood. And there were some fine examples of stupidity on Team Kakashi.

Kakashi was too busy contemplating what had been revealed to him during the previous conversation to notice how cute the self-righteous lengthening of her stride made her ass look.

Well, okay. _Almost_ too busy to notice. But mostly he watched her because he was concerned and he was thinking. Yes.

Naruto turned to glare at Sai. "Great job. Now she's gonna be pissy the whole rest of the way home."

Sai, for his part, looked a little bewildered. "I was simply curious. I didn't know that she would react in such a manner."

"That's because you're a total dumb-ass."

Sai may have responded with an insult in kind, and Naruto may have begun yelling, but at that point Kakashi tuned them both out. He thought about what he'd learned.

First, something was up with Sakura.

Second, it had to do with her work at the hospital.

Third, (and this one was significant) she felt that she had to hide it from her teammates, to whom she usually went when she had a problem.

So no, Kakashi wasn't the first person to notice that something was wrong with Team Kakashi's sole kunoichi. But now that he had, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

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_A/N: Please let me know what you think :)  
_


	2. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I'm trying to keep myself to a weekly update schedule. We'll see how that goes. This week almost didn't happen. This chapter was intended to be longer, but it's kind of a monster and I think this was a good place to end it._

_Beware, for ahead lies pseudo-medical crap. Some of it is stuff I actually know, some of it is wikipedia'd, and some of it is simply made up. There's a brief explanation of medical jargon at the end of the chapter._

_I forgot to mention this, but I don't own Naruto. I own this idea, though, so don't steal it ;P_

* * *

**But What Of The Physician, Hippocrates?**

Chapter 1

When Sakura reached the stream, she forgot modesty entirely and started pulling off all her clothes. She deliberately ignored the fact that anyone could find her in her altogether, and while she was convinced her teammates wouldn't _dare_ approach her less friendly people might, and then she'd have to fight naked, and wouldn't _that_ be embarrassing?

Then again, if they were male, she might be able to count on the blood rushing out of their head so fast they fainted.

The image caused her to snort in amusement despite herself, and she set her clothes to the side and slid into the water. The water just brushed the base of her ribcage, so she hunkered down on her haunches. Okay, she hadn't forgotten modesty _entirely_.

The brook was run-off from the mountains, and so it was cold but clear. It was exactly what she wanted. The frigid water stimulated her skin in a way that reminded her she was flesh and blood as it rushed past, and she relished the feeling of her body bracing against the surprisingly strong current. It made her feel strong and in control, and these were things she'd been having trouble finding in herself lately.

She scowled, submerging her face down to her mouth and blowing bubbles into the water. Stupid Sai. He just _had_ to bring up the one thing she'd been trying to escape.

Sakura liked to think that it had to do with the stress. She wasn't lying when she told Sai that she, on a more or less weekly basis, performed high-level jutsu that very few people had the control and discipline to master. On a daily basis she had to use more jutsu than anyone she knew did when they weren't out on a mission. Most ninja knew how to break things, and break them well, but to know how to fix them was another matter entirely. Medics were presented with a thousand broken pieces and were expected to put them back into a whole. Sakura danced with death so often that her footsteps were sure and practiced and routine, and whether she won or lost there was always another chorus to be honored. So it was understandable if she got a little stressed out at times, right?

But if Sakura was really honest with herself—and she thought she was, but often she wasn't—she knew she could handle the stress. She thrived in adversity. She _had_ to. What she couldn't handle, because it was simply so mind-boggling, was that she was sometimes in more danger treating patients than she was on missions.

It was something she had been completely unprepared for. Oh sure, she had anticipated poisoned shinobi lashing out at their hallucinations. She expected them to thrash powerfully when they were in tremendous amounts of pain. She knew they could get belligerent on some medications.

It was hospital policy that ANBU be present for all procedures involving Jonin-level or higher or ANBU ninja, because terrible accidents could happen when treating walking weapons that were not fully cognizant of their surroundings. They _had_ happened. But she was no small matter to be dealt with herself and between these assurances she had thought she'd be fine.

These policies did not extend to Genin or Chunnin, however.

Genin she had very little to worry about, for the most part. For one thing they rarely sustained serious enough injuries to be rendered incapacitated or delirious, and for another they were not well trained enough to land a hit on her. When one trained to avoid Princess Tsunade's iron fists, one becomes rather quick enough to avoid even an unanticipated attack.

Chunnin, however, were another story. They were exempt from the policy because the resources could not be spared, and they were not seen as being capeable enough to cause significant damage. Even Sakura had—very, very briefly—gone about treating them with this confidence, with a blasé and superior attitude she was ashamed to look back on. She figured, because she was a Jonin, and because they were not, and because she had been trained by one of _the_ Sannin, that they would be no trouble.

Really, she should have known better. Had she really forgotten that she, herself, had killed a member of the Akatsuki—perhaps the most dangerous criminal organization in the world—against all expectations of her? Had she truly forgotten that underestimating any shinobi could be very last thing you ever did?

Apparently, she had, and she was in for a very rude awakening one day.

It came when she was eighteen. The day after she was made Jonin she went into work with the hangover of the century, but she grinned for hours in spite of the awful feeling. This time, this promotion, was different from the last one. This was better. This was something shared. Yes, she had celebrated her promotion to Chunnin, but not with the people who mattered most.

Naruto wasn't there to yell and cheer like a total dork when she was panting so hard, staring at her opponent, that it hurt. Kakashi wasn't there to put a heavy hand on her shoulder when she was exhausted and triumphant and tell her that even though he couldn't claim that he'd thought when they were twelve that she would be Team Seven's first Jonin, he _could_ say that he now knew she deserved it the most. Sasuke wasn't there, either time, but Sai was and when he came up to her after she'd gotten patched up and told her she'd done well, Ugly, she smiled and wrapped her arms around him and knew he wasn't a replacement, he was _better_, because he always meant what he said.

More importantly, they weren't _together_ to get roaring drunk afterwards. Well, Kakashi didn't drink. But watching Sai babble in a slurred, inebriated way about every person that passed their table was more than enough to compensate for that. To that very day she was grateful to Naruto for… well, doing _whatever_ he did to get their teammate intoxicated for the first time. She was a little fuzzy on the details.

The next day, through the headache and the nausea she felt like she could walk on air. She felt powerful. She felt _invincible_. So she went about all her duties—even the most disgusting ones—with a blend of confidence and bliss that frankly weirded out the nurses. Anyone who whistled while changing bedpans could not be normal.

Shizune approached her, looking somewhat harried, somewhere near the middle of the day with a file in her hand. "Sakura, I'm having a bit of trouble with this case. Would you mind taking a look at this patient and giving me your input?"

Please. She could take on anything today. Whichever Akatsuki member was causing them the most problems, she was all over that. Where was Uchiha Itachi? Bastard wouldn't even know what hit him. "No problem," she said, taking the file and stumbling over a trash bin, upsetting it with a hollow clatter, as she turned around.

She heard Shizune sigh behind her. "Tsunade's rubbing off on you," she remarked in a dismayed tone of voice. Sakura was in a rather magnanimous mood, so she pretended she hadn't heard that.

She scanned through the file as she walked up the stairs to the second floor. _Hyuuga Himori. 26. Chunnin. Male. Transverse fracture of the diaphysis of the humerus. Hairline fracture of the phalanx. One-inch deep kunai wound between the 9__th__ and 10__th__ ribs._ Those were all standard fare for mission injuries. She pushed open the stairwell door and walked down the hall. _Torsion of ACL_. That was common of Hyuuga who attempted techniques like Hakkesho Kaiten without fully mastering it. Pretty much run-of-the-mill stuff, although he was going to be in for a while with that ACL injury. What was Shizune concerned about?

Her eyes skipped down the file. Boring, boring, boring—oh. _Unidentified purple-colored rash on the neck and chest._ Huh. _That_ was different. That was where she'd start.

Sakura pushed open the door to the patient's private room. (He was Hyuuga, after all, and they were rich enough not to have to share). "Good afternoon, Hyuuga-san," she said, her attention still on his file. She didn't receive a reply, but this didn't really concern her. She walked over to the bed and her attention shifted from his file to the monitors he was hooked up to, going through a mental checklist of symptoms that could be connected to a rash. Nothing told her much. Heart rate and blood pressure were normal. O2 levels were a little low, but certainly not low enough to cause too much concern. She placed his file down and finally looked at her patient.

Sakura was of the opinion that if you saw one Hyuuga, you've got a pretty basic layout for the features of all of them. Himori did little to change this view. He looked a lot like Neji, but his hair was shorter he didn't have the hard, unforgiving, slightly haunted look around his eyes that marked the clan's prodigy. He was awake, but he wasn't looking at her. He didn't seem to be looking at anything, really—like he was thinking about something miles away. Sakura considered him, sorting through his symptoms, but she had a fractured picture at best. Several theories introduced themselves and then were rejected. Was it a disease? But little seemed to have been affected aside from his skin. His body was, in general, functioning normally. Allergy, perhaps? It would have to have been very recently formed (it wasn't in his file), but allergies were rare among shinobi. Chakra helped regulate immune response. Could he have been poisoned? Not likely; most poisons were introduced through an infected weapon breaking the skin, and whoever had treated him when he came in would have noticed marks on his skin around the point of entry, treated him and made a note of it.

Something buzzed in the back of Sakura's head, like an idea she hadn't considered. Sakura frowned. Was she missing something? But when she tried to coax it out into the open it refused budge, so she shrugged. Probably it was just another headache. She seriously needed some coffee.

She returned her attention to her patient. "Well, Hyuuga-san, I need to have a look at that rash of yours," she told him. The man gave a little start, as if having just realized she was there, and finally turned his attention on her.

"Who are you?" he asked.

_This_ was where, when she looked back on it, she should have been tipped off. Konoha ninja knew who she was. It came with being Tsunade's prized apprentice. If you knew who the Hokage was, you knew who Haruno Sakura was, and if you knew who Haruno Sakura was you could identify her on sight—there was nothing subtle about her appearance. If she wasn't on a shift or a mission she was with Tsunade, helping with paperwork or fielding Council members' concerns or generally doing whatever the Godaime didn't want to do or didn't have time for. If Shizune was Tsunade's right hand, Sakura was most certainly her left. For a member of the Hyuuga clan—a very prominent family, and therefore in the Hokage's business a lot—to look her in her distinctive features and _ask who she was_—well, something was off.

Apparently, none of this occurred to her. Later on, she wasn't sure what to blame: her hangover or her euphoria or modesty or just being plain stupid, but nothing seemed to connect the way it should have. So instead of being put on her guard, she smiled and said, "I'm Haruno Sakura, Hyuuga-san. I'm here to find out what's up with that rash of yours. If you'll excuse me, I'll have to open your shirt up a little to have a look." And she proceeded to do just that; she untied the first and second ties of his standard hospital-issue shirt and exposed his chest to her scrutiny.

She wasn't sure it could be qualified as a rash. It was purple, certainly, but the skin was neither raised nor did it look raw. It also didn't cover area like a rash. It appeared to start at his neck, and spread in dusky tendrils down and across the upper part of his chest, spidery little fingers of it reaching off towards his arms, down toward his solar plexus. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that looked like… Curious, she focused chakra to her hand to take a better look, but she never made it that far.

Lightning fast, her wrist was caught in a hard grip and her chakra flow was abruptly broken. She gave a cry of alarm and looked up to his face.

He'd activated his Byakugan.

You could never differentiate a Hyuuga's pupil from his iris in its rest state. Only when the weapon was activated could you sort of tell the difference, and right now, Himori's eyes were so dilated they nearly pushed out the iris entirely.

Right then everything clicked into place. He'd _inhaled_ poison. What he had wasn't a rash—she was seeing the poison spread down his respiratory system and outward along the blood vessels. And now he was hallucinating.

Oh, _shit!_ But it was far too late. Before she had even the slightest chance to react she was thrown across the room, slamming into the wall and knocking the breath right out of her.

Pain exploded behind her eyes—her brain did _not_ appreciate being jostled when it was already hurting—and for a few precious second she was completely disoriented. Through the haze she heard the screaming of his monitors, and when she was able to focus again she saw he'd launched from the bed, ripping out his IVs, and only her reflexes saved her from his palm hitting her full in the face. She flattened onto the ground and he hit the wall; she could feel the plaster shudder and crack from the impact. She tried to get standing but only just managed to scramble away on her hands and feet as he made a swipe for her.

And now she'd backed herself into a corner. Literally. _Fuck._ Himori whirled toward her and his eyes were all blazing intent and _she had to defend herself_. She stood up quickly and raised her fists, ready to fight, _always_ ready to fight. But something in her reminded her that he was her patient and he was badly injured, and the medic in her balked and reminded her she was to _do no harm_. She slipped out of her stance, lowering her arms. For a moment, she hesitated.

Her indecision was all he needed, and he lunged for her. Because _fight_ was currently in limbo, _flight_ kicked in, but a half a step back and she'd hit the wall and he was under her defense and his palm was aimed straight at her heart, and she had a brief memory of her first Chunnin exams and she could see death coming for her, white-eyed and delusional, and—

And suddenly he wasn't there anymore. Someone—some Jonin she'd seen in the hall, probably visiting a friend—had grabbed him from behind and was currently wrestling with him. Himori was thrashing wildly as her rescuer immobilized his arms, locking them in his own behind the Hyuuga's back. Other people were rushing in, and she saw a nurse jab a needle into his arm and he went still, and then he was blocked from her sight by the mass of bodies suddenly filling the room. There was shouting, she dully noted, and the monitors were still going crazy, but it all seemed to wash together in a blur of noise.

The terror she hadn't realized gripped her fled her body in one swift rush, and she collapsed to her knees, her heart hammering from the adrenaline.

"Sakura!" came a voice, clearly through the buzz, and she looked up to see Shizune's anxious face. The older woman knelt down in front of her. "Are you all right?"

Sakura drew in a couple of shaky breaths. "I'm," she started, but no voice went into the word. She tried to speak again, but again nothing came out, so she tried to stand, but she was trembling too hard and she fell back down.

Shizune hauled her to her feet and dragged her from the room, supporting the brunt of the young woman's weight. Sakura stumbled down the hall with the other kunoichi's help and was deposited into a seat in the hall. Probative chakra was in Shizune's hand in an instant, and she checked her heart, her head, and scanned through the younger woman's body, checking for damage.

Finally she stopped, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, you're okay, mostly," she said. Sakura nodded dully. She'd tried to say this before, but her voice had apparently taken a field trip. "What happened?"

Sakura took several long, deep breaths, and Shizune waited for her to calm down. When she stopped shaking, Sakura spoke. "He was poisoned. He inhaled it somehow. He was delusional, didn't know who I was, so he attacked me," she replied, trying to remain clinical and largely failing.

Shizune sucked in a breath. "Alright," she said. "I'll take care of this. You need to lie down. Doctor's orders," she said as Sakura opened her mouth to protest, "so no arguing. Go the call room. I'll find you in a little bit."

And then she was off down the hall, shouting orders. A large part of her (that stubborn, battle-hungry part of her) wanted to disobey, to dive right back in and help, but the clinical part of her knew that she would simply be in the way. Her head was _throbbing_, for one thing, and for another she was—and she hated herself for it—irrationally scared of going in that room again.

Either way, she was not exactly in a frame of mind to be of any use.

She didn't really remember getting up or the walk down the hall to the call room or even collapsing on the first bed there and virtually passing out. She only knew that those things had happened because she woke up there some time later, groggier than she ever remembered being.

She rolled over in the cot to look at the clock. She'd been asleep for three hours. Apparently Shizune hadn't found her later. Her shift was over an hour ago, and now she was—

She sat bolt upright. She was late for training. Like, forty-five minutes late. Absurdly out of character late. _Kakashi was probably already there_ late.

Oh, _hell_.

She shot out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the hospital in a flash, and rather than running the whole way to the training fields and being out of breath on top of being absurdly tardy, her hands flashed through the seals for the teleportation jutsu and she reappeared seconds later at their appointed field.

Kakashi _was_ already there, though he seemed to have just arrived, because she could hear Naruto's routine conjecture that he was a liar, why did he even bother coming up with those lame excuses? being delivered to an entirely impassive audience.

Naruto cut himself mid-rant to peer around the older Jonin. "Hey, Sakura-chan! You're really late. What's up?"

Sakura opened her mouth, all ready to tell him he wouldn't _believe_ the day she'd had, which would prompt him to ask what had happened, and then she'd tell them, because it felt like it was going to burst out of her and she always told them what was bothering her, because these were the people she trusted most. But then Kakashi turned his head so that his one exposed eye could look at her over his shoulder.

It wasn't even anything in his look. He didn't look any different from how he normally did, really. If the tiny part of his face that she could see showed any expression at all, it was detached curiosity, nothing more.

It was something about the way his back was turned to her, about how she was looking at her insanely powerful teammates—the Copy Ninja, the Kyuubi host, an ex-ANBU—and a vow she'd made to herself a long time ago.

Today was, she realized, the lowest point in her career since she failed in that first Chunnin exam. She had felt weak and powerless and frightened in a way she hadn't since she was thirteen and the boy she'd loved had left her, and then _everyone_ had left her, and she had no direction. Yesterday she had been promoted to Jonin and today she cowered like the whimpering little girl she had _sworn_ she'd never be again. Self-loathing gnawed at her from the inside, like a parasite eating her stomach and intestines. These were the some of the people she respected most in the world.

How could she _possibly_ tell them about today?

She couldn't.

So she plastered on a fake smile—the one she'd taught Sai, all those years ago—and said, "Oh, just got caught up at the hospital."

And it was sort of the truth.

* * *

Hyuuga Himori didn't make it, she remembered. His exertion caused the poison to spread more rapidly and he died before they could find an antidote.

She also remembered that Shizune had forced her to fill out an incident report. She probably would have, anyway, once the shame lost a little of its bite: she'd always been a bit of a stickler for the rules.

With the way things were going these days, though, if she filled out reports for every incident she was supposed to she wouldn't see a single patient. Outright war was not quite upon them, but Konoha was under a good deal of pressure these days. Sound was relentless in its aggression, and though they had not heard from Akatsuki in a long time it was not wise to assume they'd gone completely underground, even considering it's sharply declined membership. ANBU and high-ranking Jonin were on missions all the time as violence escalated, and though hospital policy had not changed there simply were not enough resources to actually follow it. Jonin were guarded only on rare occasions and Sakura had even had to treat ANBU ops without any protection.

She'd learned her lesson (she was pretty smart) and she never let her guard down around people who could possibly pose a threat, which was a lot of people. And she _still_ got attacked, with increasing frequency as the hospital staff became strained under increasing load. Hyuuga Himori was not the worst assault she'd been subjected to. As a result, it seemed like she spent the majority of her time these days impossibly tense and anticipating attack from every angle. And then she'd go and take it out on her teammates, and while she knew they could take it it made her feel guilty and on top of everything else…. She felt like a tightly wound coil, ready to snap at the least provocation, all the damned time.

So this stress-free little escort mission they were on? Virtually _godsend_, in her opinion.

Why, _why_ did Sai have to bring these things up?

Sakura sighed. It would do no good for her to blame her teammate. It wasn't like he knew any better. She blew bubbles into the water again.

She was starting to go numb in the chilling water, and her fingers were starting to prune a little. It was well past time to be getting out, she surmised. She clambered out of the water and reached for her pack for a towel she'd swiped from a hotel ("Ninja," she'd retorted, when Naruto teased her about her minor degree of kleptomania), drying off methodically. She refused to hurry. If anyone was staring at her, well, she hoped they enjoyed the performance. She'd break their arm for it. Or something.

After a minute she pulled her clothes back on and headed back to camp. Then it was off to home.

Back to the hospital.

She couldn't even pretend to be glad about that.

* * *

_A/N: _Transverse fracture of the diaphysis of the humerus: _A perpendicular break to the long part of the bone in the upper arm._

Hairline fracture of the phalanx_: Tiny crack in a bone in the foot._

Torsion of ACL_: A tear, of varying severity, of one of the major ligaments of the knee caused by rotational force. It's a common injury in sports that involve sudden turns. I knew several people who did this playing soccer by planting their foot and turning their body, but their foot didn't follow. It usually requires surgery and a long recovery period._

_Please give me your feedback. I love to hear from you guys :)_


	3. Chapter 2

_Author's Notes: So… when I said weekly, I meant… not? Sorry about that guys. I won't get into details, but lots of stuff has been going on for me. I'll try to be more prompt about future updates, but I make no guarantees._

A note to those who are returning:_ I've revised the last chapter, so it may behoove you to go back and re-read it. Basically I took out the last scene; I realized it didn't make sense, plot-wise, for it to be where it was, so I took it out and placed it elsewhere in the story. Some things about this chapter may confuse you if you if you take it into account, so just to get a sense of the continuity you may want to take a quick look at the last chapter. Don't worry, it'll be back. Soon. Almost verbatim. New guys: don't worry, you're not missing anything._

_Also, I keep only the barest of Japanese in this in order to preserve the idea of status, but I don't pretend to understand all of the rules associated with honorifics. If I make a mistake, please feel more than welcome to correct me._

_I don't own Naruto, but please don't steal my idea, 'kay?_

* * *

**But What Of The Physician, Hippocrates?**

Chapter 2

Why, Kakashi mused, did I push teamwork so hard with these guys?

He supposed it might have had to do with Obito and Rin and a really, really stupid resentment and things he should have done and lives he could have saved, but at the moment none of these things entered his mind. No, at that particular moment in time he was being practically goose-stepped down the road by his loud, obnoxious, blond teammate—who was shorter than him—and that was a little embarrassing. That wasn't _too_ bad. He _had_ been woken up out of a really nice dream involving Sakura and significantly less clothing than was generally worn in decent society. That sort of sucked.

But that brat had forcibly—indeed, bodily—removed him from his apartment before he'd had the chance to grab Icha Icha.

Would that be considered justifiable homicide?

Either way, Naruto had something _particularly_ nasty coming for him during their next training session. Courtesy of Hatake Kakashi, who was as visibly grumpy as any one person had seen him be in two decades.

Kakashi bemoaned his emphasis on the value of the team again and again as Naruto marched him along, keeping a firm hold of him—he was smart enough to know that Kakashi would try to run—and blithely throwing his pet philosophy right back at him. "We're a team, Kakashi-sensei. That means that when we have a team lunch, you have to show up too," the boy lectured. "One of these days, we'll even get you to pay."

Not likely, demon boy. Still, he allowed himself to be dragged through Konoha as he plotted terrible fates that could befall Naruto. If the kid thought Thousand Years of Pain was bad, he was in for _worlds_ of hurt.

Besides, they'd all seen each other two days ago. Why the sudden urge for team bonding? But he didn't voice this thought aloud because Naruto would call him a hermit _again_. And he was _not_ a hermit. He was simply discerning in his choice of company.

They passed right by the turn to Ichiraku, which confused Kakashi for a moment. Where the hell were they going? But Naruto dragged him two blocks further down and when they made the left turn onto the narrow street he saw the figures his other two subordinates waiting in front of one of the myriad brightly decked buildings, one teammate bright and colorful, the other stark and almost as bichrome as his art. Both were bundled up against the brisk November weather: Sai was wearing something that actually covered his midriff and Sakura wore a bright green scarf obviously meant to compliment her eyes.

Sai paused in whatever it was he was saying to look at them around Sakura's head. His lapse in whatever conversation they were holding (Kakashi was vaguely interested to find that they were, indeed, having a conversation and Sai was not being pounded into the ground) brought their approach to her attention, and she turned toward them with her hands on her hips.

"What took you so long?" Her question was, strangely, directed at Naruto.

He held up a placating hand—the one not still fisted in Kakashi's vest. "Hey, hey, it's not my fault. Kakashi-sensei was still _asleep_ when I got there. I had to break into his apartment."

Sakura let out a small huff. She then directed her attention to her team leader. "You're unbelievable," she told him. He shrugged in response, letting his eye surreptitiously look her over, methodically and almost without thought. It was practically routine, he'd done it so many times before. A shameful number of times. He was well practiced in the art of Sakura-oogling, even though all the little voices in his head were quick to point out how wrong it was. Still, he let a small, appreciative smile no one could see quirk his lips because, much as he liked the skirts—it was hard not to note that they were easy access—the pants she was wearing were just snug enough to show off the curves of her legs very nicely.

He expected her to scowl at him for his dismissive behavior, or maybe even scold him depending on her mood, but in fact neither of these things happened. Sakura tried to keep her expression stern, but finally gave in to the smile that fought its way across her lips.

Well, that was odd.

Sai interrupted the moment. "We've reserved a table. We should probably go inside."

Sakura seemed to come to herself, looking… well, he couldn't quite place her expression (was she _blushing?_ It was a little hard to tell). "Yes, yes," she said, and turned to enter the restaurant. Naruto moved forward and started tugging on his vest, intent on making sure Kakashi actually entered the establishment. It was starting to get irritating. Kakashi reached back and detached Naruto's hand from his clothing, deliberately cutting in front of him to walk in of his own accord. He wasn't going anywhere, not now that he had a little something to look forward to.

Though he still felt _naked_ without the orange-covered book. He hunched his shoulders forward, trying to hide himself in some other fashion.

Sakura was the saving grace of Kakashi's terrible, horrible morning (disregarding the fact that it was noon already) in more ways than one. First, she'd apparently put her foot down with regards to the food they ate: they were at a tempura place, for once, instead of Naruto's normal place of gastrointestinal worship. Second, she bowed to at least one of his quirks and rejected a booth in favor of a table—old, old paranoia dictated that a chair was more easily escaped from. Third, seeing her physically added a nice little layer of reality to those particularly vivid images his brain had concocted that morning of her (he allowed himself the waking indulgence because life was pretty much awful at the moment). Fourth, weird as it was, the bright smile she'd directed at _him_ had given him a little jolt somewhere in his chest, a sensation that made him feel young in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

But ever since she'd stumbled into it she'd been a bright spot in his life.

Even before he'd met her, really. When he first got a look at the names of yet another team of students he had been convinced it was the result of the Hokage's weird sense of humor. Possibly it was payback for failing so many kids. Uchiha Sasuke—the only survivor of his clan's massacre by his older brother and haunted by more demons than you could shake a stick at: volatile, possibly unstable. Uzumaki Naruto—the trouble-making outcast orphan with an _actual_ demon sealed in his belly: unpredictable, potentially dangerous. Haruno Sakura was a relief to see, mostly because the name in and of itself didn't exactly strike fear into the hearts of men. When he dug the only remarkable things he found was that she was the only child of civilian parents—most students in the ninja academy came from families of at least a couple of ninja—and was second in her class only to Sasuke. She was a breath of fresh air in a team that could fill a psychiatric dictionary with its problems.

Or at least he thought she'd be. He couldn't lie to himself and say she hadn't disappointed him upon meeting her. She was giggly and simpering and wholly unprepared for what she was getting into. He forgot she was smart, sometimes, with how feather-brained she acted around Sasuke. At times it annoyed him and at times it frustrated him and at other times it made him angry—these last because sometimes he wondered what she was doing, playing at ninja when she was really just a little girl. Why was she _there?_ Sakura was meant for homes and gardens and friends her age and boys who could love her back. She was not meant for battles and blood and death.

Then again, she could always be counted upon to _think_. And time and again she reminded him how brave she could be.

Kakashi learned quickly that, though he'd hoped she would be the easiest of his students, there was very little he could teach her. She _frustrated_ him, because he had always failed students but this time one was failing _him_ (they all failed him, in the end). He taught her what teamwork meant and he taught her how to walk up trees, but very little else. She tried to compensate for his shortcomings by learning what she could on her own, but she needed someone else.

The Chunin Exam brought this home to him. When she failed he knew what she would ask him, possibly before she could think to ask it. He left before he had to reject her, because even if he sometimes thought she wasn't cut out for ninja life he couldn't bear to crush her. But the fact was that he could help Sasuke and there was nothing more he could teach her. If she wanted to progress, she needed to find another master. More importantly, she had to want it.

Kakashi vacillated on her for a while, at times hoping she would give up and at times hoping she never would. She paled in comparison to her teammates most of the time, but when she was focused he could see the faintest flash of brilliance of what she could become. Still, the instinct that she should be protected was always strong. It was always a circular argument in his head. He couldn't make up his mind until the day Naruto and Sasuke fought on the hospital roof. He watched, with a kind of awe, as Sakura—team seven's weakest link—planted herself right in death's face to put some sense into the people she loved. In that moment, he knew that if she gave up he'd never forgive her for it.

When he found out exactly _whose_ office she'd barged into and _whom_ she had practically demanded teach her, he was absurdly proud. The next time he saw her, he ruffled her hair with a little extra vigor than normal, much to her vocal chagrin. He couldn't help it. It had been the one bright spot in a very humbling, very sobering time.

He had the benefit of seeing her grow, but it was hard to reconcile the memory of a naïve little girl's introduction with the reality of the woman he currently sat across from. No longer was she dwarfed by giants. She didn't even try to stand on their shoulders. She _was_ a giant, now. In a generation of exceptional ninja, she shone out among them. It made him feel old when he thought about it, but also foolish because he hadn't quite seen her potential. Most people hadn't, but he should have known better.

She was currently listening to some story Naruto, on her right, was telling. Her elbow was propped on the table and her cheek propped on her palm, head tilted toward him and some of her hair falling across her cheek. Her lips were quirked indulgently as Naruto gesticulated in his normal, enthusiastic way.

Something clenched in his gut. He had also not anticipated how lovely she would turn out to be.

And that was the most foolish thought of all, because certain things were inviolable.

He was interrupted from his reverie by the arrival of a kind-faced, brunette waitress. "What can I get you guys?"

Naruto ordered twice what a normal person would eat, Sakura ordered something that was undoubtedly healthy, and Sai ordered what she was having: he still had trouble forming opinions of his own most of the time, and tended to take his social cues from her. That was fair, and probably smart of him. Kakashi _shuddered_ to think what disaster might occur if the kid started acting like Naruto. Or like him. If Sai ever asked him for one of his books…

He might actually lend one to him. There was definite potential for hilarity in that scenario.

The waitress turned to Kakashi last. "Just water," he replied. No point in ordering food he wasn't going to eat, and the glass could just sit on the table.

Naruto turned to him and grinned as the waitress shuffled off with their orders. "You mean you're not going to give us a chance to sneak a peek at your face?"

Kakashi's eye narrowed. Naruto was currently on The Shit List, so he had little patience for the blonde's prodding. "No," he replied shortly.

Sakura glanced at him curiously, noting his oddly disgruntled temper. "What's up with you?"

Naruto waved his hand in an abstract way. "Ah, don't pay any attention to him. He's just pissed I made him leave before he could grab his perverted book," he told her, grinning like a madman. One would have to be mad, taunting the Copy Ninja about Icha Icha.

Sakura snorted and rolled her eyes. "No wonder you're in such a bad mood," she said sarcastically. Kakashi shifted his glare to her. She didn't get a pass because she was pretty. "What will Kakashi-sensei do without his trusty security blanket? Dare I venture that he might actually make conversation?" she asked, clearly enjoying herself at his expense.

"Currently, he's devising the nastiest training regimen he can come up with for the next person who makes a crack about it," he retorted. "And I know Gai," he pointed out in warning. He was _not_ in the mood to be made fun of.

Sakura tilted her head back and laughed. At least _someone_ was having fun, Kakashi thought sulkily.

Naruto was just opening his mouth to speak when an ANBU member popped into existence behind and to the left of Sakura's chair. Whatever he was going to say stuttered to a halt at the interruption. Sakura twisted ninety degrees in her chair to look at the new arrival.

The ANBU bowed his head marginally in her direction. "Haruno-san. Hokage-sama requests you in her office immediately," came a deep, slightly muted voice from behind his tiger mask.

A frown drew across Sakura's face and her brows drew together, but Naruto was more vocal in his confusion. "What would the old lady want her for? I thought this was supposed to be her day off," he pointed out indignantly.

Well, that answered the question of why Sakura seemed to be in such a good mood. Right. Kakashi had some snooping to do.

The ANBU didn't waver. "I have my orders. Haruno-san, you are to report to the Hokage's office directly."

Naruto began to protest again, rising a little out of his seat, but Sakura turned her head back a little toward him and laid her palm flat on the table with a definitive thump. "It's fine, Naruto," she told him, sternly, reminding him to hold his temper. She then rose from her chair and turned fully toward the table. "Sorry, guys, I'll have to cut this short," she said, smiling apologetically at them. "I'll catch up with all of you later, okay?"

Still obviously unhappy, Naruto grudgingly wished her farewell. Sai waved at her (a gesture he had recently read up on and was testing out). Kakashi nodded at her absently, caught up in his thoughts. She then turned and walked out of the restaurant, the ANBU trailing her like a ghost and the sound of bells signaling her departure. Once she was out of sight Naruto threw himself into the back of his chair and crossed his arms sullenly. "This sucks," he proclaimed. "She's so busy we hardly get to see her. Grandma is overworking her."

Kakashi wondered if Naruto was very far off the mark. At this point, he was inclined to think not.

Time to get digging.

* * *

What was _that?_

Sakura honestly couldn't explain it.

Granted, Sakura was in high spirits: it _was_ her day off, and her plans had entailed waking up late, eating with her teammates, hanging out with Ino, maybe reading something absolutely unrelated to shinobi arts, and generally being a waste on society. Hey, she felt she'd earned it.

But even that couldn't explain the weird surge of heat through her when Kakashi looked at her earlier.

She navigated her way through the Konoha's business district on foot and on the ground—she was just about as put out by her summons as Naruto was, so she was _not_ going to scamper across the roofs. If the ANBU behind her took issue with that, well… tough. Bully for him. She weaved expertly though the mid-day crowds and the winding roads at her own pace, dismissing him entirely. He'd find his way just fine.

Sakura often wondered how much city planning had taken place in this area of town. She suspected it wasn't much. The heart of Konoha, the shinobi district, was orderly and obviously carefully planned out in terms of defense and efficiency of movement, but it was clear to her that the residential and shopping districts sprung up largely on their own, as need arose. In consequence nothing was uniform. Some streets were wide, some narrow; some straight but most wending their way in no discernable pattern; some had uniform architecture but most had structures of diverse style, sitting together in varying degrees of comfort. Some individuals might turn their nose up at that kind of thing, but to Sakura it defined the village's soul. It was patchwork, but it was natural and adaptive and a strong current of community and openness ran through all of it. _This_ was the Konoha she loved. And so she would take her dear sweet time, thank you very much.

She was avoiding the issue at hand, wasn't she? Perhaps she could be excused. It was just that the experience was so foreign; her normally analytical brain had a hard time categorizing it. Because, for one thing, said brain was suggesting that Kakashi had _checked her out_, which was simply too ridiculous a notion to be entertained.

It was just something in his gaze, some sharp intent as he looked at her that stood at odds with his nonchalant attitude. Like he wasn't looking over her as he often did but really _at_ her. Not an assessing scrutiny but an appreciative one. It was silly, really; she normally wore very short skirts around him and she was in _pants_ and a sweater: there was nothing to gawk _at_. Still, he had looked at her in a way he didn't look at other people, and she'd seen the little smile in the little part of his face that wasn't covered. She could at least tell what his face was _doing_, even if the emotions the muscle movements reflected were often a mystery to her.

Even if he _had_ been checking her out, it didn't account for her reaction. She had learned to be flattered by stares and flirtation because everyone needed an ego boost every once in a while, but aside from an acknowledgment that someone found her pretty she felt very little else. If there was mutual interest, Sakura knew how to respond. But if she returned the favor it was usually a decision made in her head. When Kakashi had smiled at her she hadn't simply felt flattered, but almost breathless with a sort of giddiness. And then it was like something welling up from her chest, something light and warm and before she knew anything there was heat in her face and she was smiling like an idiot. Her body and emotions and acted before her brain could even get to the starting gate. That hadn't happened in a long time.

Maybe, a persistent voice in the back of her brain told her, it was _too_ familiar.

She scowled. She was _not_ going to go there.

Her train of thought thus squashed, she took in her surroundings to note that her feet had carried her through the shinobi district and into the Hokage Tower without needing her head's input. With a sense of foreboding, she trudged up the stairs to the top floor to her master's office. Nothing good would come of this meeting. She just knew it.

Her escort came up to her side in the corridor just outside the Hokage's office. "I leave you here," he said.

Sakura nodded, and he vanished with a little rush of displaced air. She allowed herself a little sigh once he'd left and hesitated before crossing the distance to the heavy door. She knocked three times, once sharply and a brief pause before the second two in quick succession. It was _her_ knock.

"Enter!" came Tsunade's booming voice, her tone more clipped than usual. Sakura winced. That was _not_ a good sign.

Sakura's misgivings escalated (ridiculously and childishly, even she had to admit) to prophesies of outright doom when she saw Mitokado Homura sitting before the Godaime's desk. An uncomfortable weight settled itself in her stomach.

He rose as she entered—a semblance of chivalry, but the gesture was lost in the reluctant way he did it and the condescending way he looked at her. Sakura's eyes narrowed at his attitude. She bowed a very little at the waist, equally as begrudgingly. He managed to do little more than incline his head in response. "Haruno-san," he greeted in a frigid tone. Without waiting for her to reply, her turned his back on her to face the Hokage. "I trust you to take care of this situation," he said. He was more civil to her, but the demand inherent under his words was understood by all.

Tsunade leaned back in her chair and threw her arm over the back of it, a silent rebellion against his imperiousness. "It'll get done," she replied, her voice cool. Homura bowed to her, curving his back before turning and leaving the room without acknowledging the pupil again. Sakura watched his back as he stepped out, shutting the door behind him. He was never a pleasant person to deal with, but he usually treated her with a general courtesy men of his generation often bestowed upon women. He had been unusually rude to her today. Wondering what could possibly have gotten into him, she turned her head again to face the Hokage.

Tsunade was looking at her, and no longer was she lounged back in her seat. She'd leaned forward, mouth rested on her laced fingers, her elbows propped on the edge of her desk. And she was looking at her student in such a way that Sakura suddenly had a sense of who might have been a subject of their conversation.

After a while Tsunade let out a huff of frustration, then unlocked one of her hands to indicate the chair Homura had just vacated. "Sit," she ordered. Sakura obeyed, reluctant the whole way. She'd been back for two days! What could she possibly have done?

Tsunade leaned back again. "Fujitaka Benji was assassinated," she said.

It took Sakura a second to find the context of this statement, but when she did she stared incredulously. Team Kakashi had _just_ returned from escorting him home. Sakura knew that the political situation had been cloudy, but they had neither seen nor heard any intent against his life. He hadn't even had _wine_ spilled on him. She just couldn't believe it. "How? _When?_"

"Yesterday. Apparently in his home. His family was also murdered."

Sakura flinched. "That's awful."

"Yes." Tsunade paused, then continued. "As you may be aware, Fujitaka's home—the Land of the Snake—is a small country, but its medical research in particular is top-notch. You may also know that they develop the flu vaccines for this and other larger countries. I know you're aware that, with the coming of the winter months, flu season is approaching." Tsunade started to continue, but an intensely frustrated look crossed her face and she shut her mouth. After a moment she leaned down and wrenched open a drawer, pulling out a flask and a bowl. Sakura cringed as her master poured herself some sake and threw it back. This was going to be bad.

Putting the bowl down with a ceramic _thunk_, Tsunade fixed a look on her student. "Snake is very upset by his murder. They've decided to blame your team and Konoha for his death. I know," Tsunade cut off Sakura's angry denial with a raised hand, "that it isn't your fault. I trust you and your team implicitly to get the job done well. But they are very angry, and no amount of talking will change their minds. They've retaliated by placing an embargo on Konohagakure.

"What this means, of course, is that they will not be selling us flu vaccinations. I'm sure you can appreciate what that means. The hospital is going to be flooded with a lot of sick people in the coming months. Of course, the council has taken it upon themselves to… _inform_ me of their concerns." Tsunade gave her a level look. "Do you remember the last budget meeting you attended?"

Sakura did. She didn't often go to those meetings, but she'd made a point of being at that one. That particular meeting was dedicated to the hospital's budget, and Sakura had some choice things to say on the subject. There were severe problems with how money was allocated. The budget was split down the middle between the civilian and ninja parts of the hospital, but over two thirds of the patients were ninja and needed the specialized concern of medics and it stretched that half of the hospital's resources. As one of the top medics, she argued on behalf of the shinobi division of the hospital against a representative of the civilian hospital. It felt like moving a mountain, and it went on for hours, but she finally got a majority to vote in her favor. It had been intensely satisfying.

Tsunade smiled at her conspiratorially. "Yes, good girl." Then the smile was gone. "But you did step on quite a few toes. Mitokado Homura's nephew is the Dean of Medicine for the civilian half of the hospital. It was a prime opportunity to get back at you. He cast doubts about your ability and several key members of the council were inclined to agree with him."

This time Sakura did splutter in resentment. "I am _good_ at what I do, both in the hospital and out in the field."

"Don't you think I know that? _I'm_ the one who taught you, and damned if I didn't teach you well," Tsunade replied sharply. "But you know as well as I how thick-skulled these people can be when they get an idea in their head. I only just managed to talk them down from temporary suspension from duty."

Sakura gaped. "You can't possibly be serious!" she exclaimed.

Tsunade sighed. "I wish I was."

Sakura hissed in anger. This was _absurd_. They _had_ to know that none of this was her fault. It pissed her off how vindictive some of the council members could be. She had to take several breaths to calm herself, clenching and unclenching her fists. Finally she looked up, to the side of Tsunade's head. "So what's my punishment?" she asked, and she couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of her tone.

A wry smile curled Tsunade's lip. "You are going to be working under Mitokado Ken in the civilian wing of the hospital, helping out with the flu season overflow. He will be… _evaluating_ your performance. This will be in addition to your hours in the shinobi wing, which will have to be cut back. Obviously, you won't have time to take any missions with your team or solo."

Sakura had to beat down another surge of rage. This was all so fucking _unfair_.

"Sakura," Tsunade said, and Sakura shifted her attention to her. There was a very serious look on her face, one she only had under the most dire of circumstances. Like the time she'd told Naruto about Jiraiya's death. "I can't stress this enough. They're going to be looking for any flaw or weakness they can use against you. You have to be _careful_."

Sakura nodded stiffly. "I know."

That just figured. She'd been feeling nothing _but_ weak these days.

* * *

_AN: _The Land of the Snake:_ I know snakes have a lot of negative connotations, but in this case I use it as a reference to medicine. The Rod of Asclepius—a rod with a snake twined around it—is an ancient symbol of medicine. It is named for Asclepius, who in Greek mythology was the son of Apollo and such a powerful healer he was believed to have brought men back from the dead. The snake is the animal associated with him: his cultists often allowed snakes to crawl on the floor in sick wards._

_Feedback is love, guys :)_


	4. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: I apologize for the long delay in writing this chapter. Several factors combined to the lateness of it: school, financial troubles, and severe writers block among them. I cannot promise any kind of regularity in future chapters, but the next few chapters should flow easier and I will try my hardest to get chapters out as soon as possible._

_Also, I was asked to write commentary for the last chapter of this fic. I basically ramble about my process and the themes I use and such. If anyone is remotely interested, it is at my LJ: http(colon)(double slash)flibbergibbet(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)12556(dot)html._

_I don't own Naruto or any related characters or settings._

_Onward!

* * *

_

**But What Of The Physician, Hippocrates?**

Chapter 3

It wasn't the first time Kakashi had attempted to pry into affairs he didn't have any right to. Nooo. Far from it. It also wasn't the first time he'd attempted to look into hospital records.

It was simply the most difficulty he'd ever had doing it.

Admittedly, the previous hospitals he'd filched private records from were civilian hospitals. This one was a shinobi hospital, and it was like they wanted to keep prying ninja eyes and prying ninja fingers out of confidential documents.

Ridiculous.

He had to duck into a random hospital room at one point in order to avoid detection, which was a little awkward because someone was _in_ it and wondering why the hell the Copy Ninja was paying them a visit in the middle of the night, well past visiting hours. Kakashi merely waved at the fellow shinobi and popped right back out once the coast was clear. Picking the low-tech physical lock on the filing cabinet was no problem; the complicated bit of sealing on the documents themselves was a different matter. But Hatake Kakashi was not called a genius for nothing. He suspected some of the reason people called him that was sarcasm, but a good deal of it was because he was naturally gifted and really damn smart. So there.

When he finally broke through the seals, he leafed through his team member's patient records in the dead of night, senses on high alert for any interlopers and trying to convince himself he wasn't invading Sakura's privacy. Well, okay, he was, but he didn't really care. It wasn't like he was spying on her or anything, even if he had thought about it (he blamed Jiraiya entirely). He quickly looked over patient records from before their most recent mission, moving backward from the most recent.

She certainly was a busy girl, he noted. She had six surgeries in the two weeks before their mission and was assigned primary responsibility for twenty-three people. It seemed like these numbers had been increasing steadily. Was this the problem?

It could be, but gut instinct told him it wasn't. Sakura responded to increasing pressure by adapting, meeting the challenge by approaching it in a different way when things stacked up seemingly out of her control. When a half a dozen enemy nin seemed to spring out of nowhere, instead of trying to plough through all of them the same way she would a couple, she changed her strategy to adapt to increased numbers. He was sure that a mere thing like a few more treatments were well within the realm of her ability to adapt. Physically, these things didn't affect her performance in training: she still had more than enough chakra and stamina to keep all of them on their toes. His answer wasn't here, he decided.

So where was it?

He was going to have to come at this from a different angle. Something had changed, right? Something had set this all off. It wasn't always like this. He hadn't noticed it at first, but now that he thought about it there was a distinct shift in her behavior, and if he remembered correctly it seemed to be just about the time of her Jonin exam, a year and a half ago. There had to be some sort of precipitating event, then.

What had happened?

He stiffened, suddenly. There was a noise from outside—footsteps and voices a little too close for comfort.

He'd have to continue his little information hunt later. Careful to leave everything as he'd found it, including the seals, he returned Sakura's records to the filing cabinet and stole out into the night.

* * *

There was not a single part of Sakura that did not object to waking up that morning, it seemed. She was normally a morning person, who woke completely in a short amount of time even when danger was not breathing down her neck. But she'd had several bad dreams the night before, dreams she'd forgotten upon waking except for the lingering and odious feeling of unease. She'd slept poorly.

So she woke in a fog, her alarm sounding as though it was hidden under a pillow across her room, and it was her internal clock that truly roused her. Her eyes felt heavy, and Sakura knew with certainty that if she remained in bed sleep would drag her down with weighted hands for another couple of hours. It was infinitely tempting.

Nothing but her sense of duty could have dragged her out from between her warm sheets and into the bathroom, shuffling like a toddler the whole way, the cold tiles a shock against her bare feet. She showered like an automaton, her motions guided solely by routine, because her mind was having a difficult time following her body off her pillow.

Sakura sighed, frustrated with herself, and in a huff reached for the shower knob and snapped it all the way to cold. She yelped a little at the shock, but at least she was finally awake.

When she stepped out of the shower she toweled off quickly. She meant to go right into her room, but she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she paused to look closer.

"I look like hell," she observed.

A wonderful start to the morning.

* * *

The civilian wing of the hospital was in a separate building than the shinobi wing. The two opposing structures stood on either end of the central quad of the medical center, staring each other down across a green patch of no-man's land. When Sakura pushed open the door to the civilian hospital, she felt the tense foreboding of wandering into enemy territory.

She felt eyes on her from the moment she stepped in. It was to be expected. Shinobi were virtually never in this building. There were plenty of places in town where the shinobi interacted with the larger civilian population of Konoha, but this was not one of them. There was no need for nin to come here. It was a hospital for and run by people without ninja skills. The forehead protector Sakura wore on her head marked her clearly as an outsider, someone who Did Not Belong. Without thinking, she tugged on it self-consciously.

She'd only been in this building once or twice, so she had no idea where she might go about finding the Dean of Medicine's office. Cautiously, she stepped up to the welcome desk. "Where can I find Mitokado Ken's office?" she asked the woman sitting behind it.

The sandy-haired receptionist looked at her dubiously over a pair of half-moon glasses. "Sure you aren't lost?" she asked, with barely a hint of a question.

_So much for 'Welcome.'_ Sakura tapped down hard on her ire, but she couldn't help a frown or the shortness of her tone. "I have an appointment," Sakura informed the woman flatly.

The receptionist looked a little startled by Sakura's tone. It seemed to remind her that the woman she was addressing was a kunoichi, someone with powers she couldn't understand but that were undoubtedly dangerous. In a more subdued tone, she said, "I'll call him."

Sakura nodded and retreated to sit in one of the uncomfortable seats that sat in rows through the room. She hadn't quite meant to be so undiplomatic, but this was her _punishment_ for a trumped-up crime, and she was in a foul mood. Normally when she was in a bad mood and people ticked her off, she broke things. Her violent mental roommate counted this reaction an improvement.

At this time of morning there were very few people in the fairly small waiting room, which Sakura noticed also served as the hospital's emergency room. Across from her was an elderly man who every once in a while released a string of deep, phlegmy, hacking coughs. In another row sat a middle-aged pair, the woman bouncing her leg over her knee and the man reading some sort of magazine. A couple of seats down sat a young mother and her snuffling toddler.

It was decidedly counter to Sakura's idea of an emergency room. The one she worked in was an increasingly busy facility in those tense times. In the shinobi wing, every case that came through the ER doors was genuinely an emergency. The idea of a person using such a place for the free healthcare because she was a paranoid mother with a child with a cold was a strange notion. Sakura couldn't help but think of the sacrifices she and her friends made daily for such a measure of peace for the civilians they protected.

She waited fifteen minutes. To pass time, she closed her eyes and went over katas in her head. "There is no substitute for _doing_," Tsunade had once told her when she was young and impatient, "but it is important to think about what you're doing, too." Years ago, such a thing was an infuriating waste of time in her path towards being worth something. It helped to calm her now.

Mid-way through the ninth kata, she was interrupted. "Haruno-san," a stern male voice called.

Sakura was not exactly surprised by his appearance so much as she was jarred out of her meditative state by reality, but either way she started ungraciously. She stood quickly and bowed. "Mitokado-san," she said, and as she rose he bowed in return. There was a vague sort of resemblance between him and his uncle—both had small eyes and jaws that were built into scowls. The nephew's hair was chestnut brown but graying at the edges, cut close to his head and firmly held in a neat, smooth style with some product. Perhaps Sakura was just used to men with unruly hair, but this feature in particular struck her as unnecessarily uptight.

He was sizing her up too, and either condescending looks ran in the family or she fell short of his expectations. Without preamble he asked, "Are you ready to start?"

She replied in the affirmative. Without another word he turned and went through a set of double doors. Sakura assumed by lack of instruction that she was to follow.

She half expected him to dump her off somewhere and let less important people show her the ropes, but instead he pointed out the various parts of the hospital as they moved through the winding, confusing corridors. He indicated each place in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone. "Pulminology." "Neurology." "I.C.U." "Pharmacy."

He stopped in front of what was evidently a break room and knocked on the glass. The door opened and a short, dumpy sort of nurse wearing scrubs in an awful shade of maroon appeared. What struck Sakura immediately was the sharp juxtaposition she and the Dean of Medicine made. Tall, lanky and severe-looking, Mitokado was the antithesis to this woman, who was shorter than Sakura, overweight in a matronly sort of way, and wore a bun that completely failed to control her wispy grey hair and bobbed around as she moved. Her face had clearly smiled often and readily in her life, the evidence writ without regret in the lines of her face.

She turned kind, dark eyes on Sakura. "Ah, Mitokado-san, is this the new blood?" she asked, smiling pleasantly.

He gave one curt nod in response. "Haruno Sakura has agreed to come over from the shinobi wing as a favor, to help with the flu season overflow," he said.

Sakura bit her tongue very, very hard. He made this all sound voluntary on her part, but she knew for damned sure that he knew this wasn't the case at all. Plus, something about the way he enunciated the word "favor" gave her the impression that he didn't consider it much of one at all. It set her teeth on edge.

The nurse completely missed the sudden tension in the hallway. "It's a pleasure to have you," she said with all apparent sincerity. "I'm Yakumoto Akane, the head nurse." She held out a bundle of clothing in the same shade she was wearing to Sakura. "I found a set of scrubs for you to wear, but looking at you now," Yakumoto gave Sakura's slight frame a brief once-over with her eyes and a wink, "I think they're going to be a little big," she concluded. Sakura supposed that was meant to be a compliment on her figure, though it was a little hard to take it that way.

Still, she forced a smile. "I'm sure they'll be fine." Sakura gathered them into her arms and tried not to imagine how washed-out they'd make her complexion, or how badly they'd clash with her hair.

"Come this way," Mitokado said suddenly, and went off down the hall. It took a second for either of the women to follow, though Yakumoto recovered first, probably used to his behavior. Sakura trailed behind and glared at his back. Impatient jerk. Her opinion of him, already low out of personal bias, slid every moment she spent in his presence.

You've got to stop, she told herself. Don't make this any worse than it has to be by holding a grudge. If you were giving a tour to some underling far below your standing, you'd be a little impatient, too.

This, of course, was the real source of her problem. Sakura hadn't been jonin for very long by most standards, but she was influential and powerful because of her familiarity with the Godaime Hokage. She was in high standing in the shinobi community and respected by much of it (and if they didn't respect _her,_ they respected her _fists_). Here, she was just another low-level nurse, just like she'd been just another academy student, just another one of Sasuke's tittering fans. Here, she was nobody. Again.

She tried to find some other grounds on which to criticize him. She wanted to think that she wasn't this rude to subordinates, but the fact of the matter was that she'd scared the pants off of quite a few novice medics in her time. She resolved to swallow her pride and give Mitokado the benefit of the doubt.

He escorted them to the woman's locker room. "Locker number 42 is yours, go ahead and get changed," he said.

"Thank you," Sakura replied, without feeling, as she went past him through the door he indicated.

It was a long and narrow room, lined with lockers on two walls, a long bench in the middle of the room the only place to sit. A couple of moldy-looking sinks were positioned at the far end of the room, under small windows paned with frosted glass. There were no mirrors. It was an extremely claustrophobic space, probably more so when there were other people in it.

Sakura slung off her bag and began undressing methodically down to her underwear, removing clothes and weapons in the same efficient manner. She removed all of her weapons cases—the kunai pack at her hip, the shuriken on her thigh, the senbon she hid in her boot, her skirt filled with all kinds of unpleasant medical things, the scrolls in her vest—and placed them carefully in her pack before pulling on the borrowed scrubs. They _were_ big (she had to roll the pants up twice to avoid stepping on the hem), and she'd have had plenty of room to stash some weapons, but for all kinds of reasons she couldn't carry them around here. She didn't like the feeling of being caught off her guard, even if she wasn't anticipating being attacked, but she let it go. Her fists were far and away the most dangerous weapons she owned, anyway.

Her locker didn't have a lock on it—she noticed that the ones that did had different varieties of locks, and concluded that each nurse brought her own in from home. Probably a way of saving a little cash. Great. Sakura let out a suffering sigh and removed a seal note from her pack before stuffing it and her clothes into the just-barely big enough locker and shut it. Her hands worked through a series of four seals and she felt a hum of chakra go through the metal when she slapped the seal onto the gap between the locker door and frame. It was a basic seal that any shinobi could crack, but she wasn't exactly anticipating being robbed by an A-class missing nin. Mostly she was trying to keep the other nurses out of her stuff for their own safety.

When she emerged, Yakumoto gave her a once over. "I was right," she remarked, "they are too big for you. I'll have to get you another set tomorrow."

"That's fine," Sakura said.

"For today there's no helping it," Mitokado said, "but tomorrow and in the future you will be required to wear close-toed shoes. And—" here he paused, his gaze on her hair. Finally he tapped a finger to his head. "The forehead protector needs to come off."

The command caught her off-guard. "What?"

"You cannot wear it here," he clarified, speaking as though she were exceptionally simple. "Some of the equipment we use here utilize magnetic currents. Metal can disrupt them, or be thrown about and put our patients at risk."

"How often am I going to be around such equipment? I'm just here to help out with flu patients, I'm not going to be using any of that," Sakura protested. She didn't fully know why, but for some reason the idea of relinquishing her forehead protector, even just for a day, was so abhorrent she couldn't comprehend it.

Mitokado frowned. "Regardless, you can't wear it."

Sakura opened her mouth to reply, but knew something exceptionally rude would have come out, so she forced herself to shut it. Her objections were so visceral, so raw, that she was having a hard time coming up with an argument.

Before she could say anything more, Mitokado spoke. "Haruno-san, I don't know what impression you're under, but I don't care who you are close to or what rank you hold. While you are in this hospital, you are not a ninja, or even an off-duty ninja. You are one of my employees, and you must do as I say." With that, he extended his open palm to her expectantly.

It took every ounce of willpower Sakura possessed to stomp down on the intense flash of fury that seared through her, hot enough to make her see red for one stark instant. She could not entirely hide the violence of her reaction: even Yakumoto noticed. The old nurse took a hesitant step away from Sakura, who suddenly was tense and dangerous and not at all like the lovely young woman Yakumoto pegged her as. She cast nervous glances between Sakura and the Dean, completely at a loss of what to do in this situation.

Finally, with edgy and jerky motions, Sakura pulled out the knot of her forehead protector and yanked it free of her hair, holding it out and focusing on the way it gleamed in the harsh fluorescent light, because she refused to look into Mitokado's face as he reached out and took it from her.

"Benefit of the doubt" be damned. In that moment, Haruno Sakura thoroughly and totally despised Mitokado Ken's guts.

* * *

_Tap-tap-ta-tap-tap._

Oh, great.

There was a pause, and then, louder:

_Tap-tap-ta-tap-tap._

Sakura groaned.

It just figured that the one person she most wanted to avoid after she'd gotten home from her shift and collapsed on the couch was also the one person least likely to be put off if she just ignored the incessant knocking on her door.

One could hope, right?

"Sa-ku-ra," Ino singsonged, tapping out a matching rhythm on her door. "I know you're in there."

Sakura groaned again and pulled a pillow out from under her head and stuffed it over her face. "Go _away,_ Ino," she mumbled into it.

There was a rush of air by her head as it was displaced by a body, and then the pillow was yanked out of her hands. "Not likely," Ino told her.

Sakura glared halfheartedly up at her rival and friend before deciding that the day had been too taxing. She simply couldn't muster the energy to kick Ino out. "What's up?" she asked casually, as though she hadn't been diligently ignoring Ino's presence outside her door.

Instead of replying, Ino gave Sakura a once-over, taking in Sakura's haggard expression, her mussed hair, her too-big scrubs. "Forehead," she remarked, "know that I say this with all love, but that is a _terrible_ color on you."

Sakura laughed, quick and ironic, because of course she'd thought the same thing herself. "I know," she said.

Ino sat herself down on Sakura's coffee table—which Sakura _hated_, but again decided she couldn't be bothered to get mad about it. "_You_ look terrible, in all honesty. Why on earth are you wearing those… things, anyway?"

For a second, Sakura debated giving an evasive answer. It would drive her friend crazy, but Ino would get the hint and let it drop after a few minutes of nagging. She didn't generally talk to Ino about her problems because Ino was a better talker than she was a listener. On the other hand, Ino understood the depths of her insecurities and fears, and she just couldn't contain how angry she was anymore. It all spilled out in a disjointed rush, about the assassination and her punishment and Mitokado and how unfair it all was, and how worthless it made her feel, and how fucking pissed she was that he made her feel insignificant.

And Ino, to her credit and Sakura's gratitude, said nothing throughout Sakura's tirade, let Sakura get it all out, let Sakura yell through her to the people she was really mad at, and didn't say anything for long minutes after Sakura had finished, allowing her to blow herself out on her own. In the end, it felt as though a great weight had unearthed itself from her chest and had evaporated, wafting away like so much smoke. Sakura felt much calmer.

Finally, Ino stood and said, "Well, come on then. You promised to have dinner with my team tonight, and you need to look half-way presentable, at least." It was a return to her regular, bossy self. Sakura appreciated the normalcy, so she obeyed Ino's command without protest.

It wasn't until after she gotten ready and out the door, when Ino was filling her in on new developments in Tenten's love life, that Sakura realized the trade she'd made. On the upside, Ino's supportive silence as Sakura ranted and raved had been exactly what she needed to get everything off her chest. On the other, by tomorrow all of Konoha would know all the gory details about her probation and shame.

* * *


End file.
